These Violent Delights Have Violent Ends
by HeatherRed
Summary: In a world of Soulmatches and Soulmates, a soulless assassin equipped with "special skills" (as Pilgrim puts it) was destined to be alone. Now, in Dale, Sting is on a new mission: to protect the Royals of Erebor and Barzillai from the very terrorist group that is hunting her, without giving herself away. If only the Royals were not so determined to ruin her plans. Fem Bilbo!
1. Chapter 1

**These Violent Delights Have Violent Ends**

 **Prologue: Untimely Frost**

 _"Death lies on her like an untimely frost upon the sweetest flower of all the field"- Romeo and Juliet (Act IV, Scene V, Line 24), William Shakespeare._

* * *

 **Two weeks after the Incident- Thorin**

The King of Erebor sat on a white bench, staring at the sands of the Royal Beach as the sun rose higher and higher, colouring the sky red and orange before shifting gradually to the deep, dreamy blue. Behind him were the Palace Gardens and they were filled with bright and fragrant flowers, geometric-patterned foliage shaped around them to create a mosaic of colour.

The King was shivering, though no breeze had swept through and the day was already warm. He wore a black blanket that hung around his shoulders limply. His eyes were lined heavily with red and deep, dark circles hugged the skin under his eyes, like smudged mascara. The once proud set of shoulders had slumped, he had become thin and his hands were held uselessly in his lap. His black trousers had patches of sand clinging to them, where he had fallen a few times in the dark as he had walked, sometimes out of exhaustion and sometimes to weep. The King's shirt was wrinkled and rolled at the sleeves. He wore no shoes. His beard was usually so neatly trimmed but it had now become unkempt. His jaw-length hair, black with a few silver streaks, once neatly combed back from his face and behind his ears, now made him look like he had just recovered from a hangover, so rumpled and ragged it was. His face seemed worn, like the stone of a cliff where the sea crashed against it, at a threat of crumbling at any moment. His blue eyes gazed listlessly at the world.

 _I love her._

Thorin closed his eyes softly, remembering a time when _she_ had run across these very sands, giggling breathlessly as he playfully chased her. There had been laughter in her face and the emeralds of her eyes when she had looked over her shoulder at him, judging the distance between them as her legs sprinted her away from him and his tickling fingers. Her hair the exact shade of amber glimmered in the sunlight, some strands turning into a bright gold. Her creamy skin had changed to a pale gold from the sun but the roses in her cheeks had brightened as she had run. When she had smiled at him, a bright smile full of such warmth and she seemed to have _glowed_ … he had temporarily lost his breath.

She had outshone the sun. She had shone so _bright_ …

If Thorin had to pinpoint when exactly he fell in love with her, he guessed it was then.

But he knew now that those who shone the brightest were never meant to last. Now he was only desperately reaching out and chasing the shadows of a memory.

He opened his eyes as he heard light footsteps, pulled back reluctantly to the world of reality.

"Thorin."

He stayed, looking forwards at the beach as Dis seated herself beside him.

"Brother, please. You haven't spoken in two weeks. Talk to me." Dis pleaded gently.

A pause before Thorin's voice, husky from lack of use and tears, finally answered after weeks of pleas from his family and friends.

"She's dead. She's dead and it is all my fault. I love her and she's dead because of me, because of Dain."

"You mean you loved her."

"No, I _love_ her. Present tense. And I killed her."

"You didn't k-"

"I did! I killed her and it is my fault. Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea máxima culpa!" He shouted as he stood up with shaky legs, the strange language punctuating through the air like bullets. His voice had broken on the last three words, the strain too much on his throat.

Tentatively, Dis rose and laid a hand on his shoulder. "I don't know what that means."

"It means "My fault, my fault. My grievous fault" in the ancient language of Latin. She taught me some of it."

Her face softened and she tilted her head slightly in sadness. "Oh, Thorin…"

"I should have acted differently. I should not have been so stupid or selfish or-"

"Thorin, nothing can be changed now. She's gone."

Thorin crumbled, like he had a hundred times before and will a million times after.

A sob broke out of his chest and Dis instinctively wrapped her arms around him and he buried his face in her neck, weeping, weeping, weeping.

 _I love her. I love her. I love her._

 _I love her and now she's gone._

* * *

 **Two weeks after the Incident- Dain**

King Dain of Barzillai stood at the window regally, hands clasped behind his back. He looked the picture of power, standing straight and proud, chest out. But his jaw was clenched and there were faint circles under his brown eyes.

"Your Majesty, the Prime Minister is waiting for you." His secretary timidly called. He nodded to him and thanked him quietly, a practice he had once neglected but now felt guilty for not doing so before.

He walked in silence, lost in thought as he made his way to meet the Prime Minister.

Dain was not the same man he had been. He had changed since two weeks ago. The proud, boisterous man had matured into a more thoughtful king. He had changed for the better, though at a terrible cost.

He knew now that he hadn't loved her but rather the idea that she had represented; the unconditional love he craved, the end of feeling inadequate, the beginning of being whole.

But people couldn't make other people whole. You had to learn to be whole on your own.

He felt whole now, a strange feeling. He didn't feel inadequate anymore, and he had not needed love from someone to do that. He had learned to love himself instead.

She had taught him to do that. At the time, he hadn't appreciated how she had taught him that lesson but now he was glad.

But there was no chance to thank her now. She was gone. And it was his fault. All of his fault.

He opened the door to the room where he would be discussing the aftermath of the Incident with the Prime Minister.

Dain had been a fool and she had paid the price.

* * *

 **Two weeks after the Incident- Pilgrim**

Pilgrim sighed as he finished reading the report on his laptop.

 _Messy business. Messy, messy business._ He thought tiredly. _But it was for the best._

The media had been reporting the Incident over the last couple of weeks.

A grainy picture of her face was plastered across every magazine, every newspaper and every news channel and news website. There were people who were calling her a hero for her actions whilst others called her a coward and ridiculed her.

Pilgrim heard that the King of Erebor was heartbroken and that the Crown Prince had taken over his duties for a while. Rumours circulated that the King spent the night solitarily walking the beach and that he had planned to build a memorial in the palace grounds, possibly in the gardens.

King Dain was also grieving and his servants whispered that he avoided certain dishes because she had enjoyed them and he suffered from bad dreams at night, reliving the day again and again and again.

It was a tragedy. A tragedy.

But the real tragedy was that no-one knew the truth.


	2. Chapter 2

**These Violent Delights Have Violent Ends**

 **Chapter 1: The True Face and The False One**

" **God has given you one face and you make yourselves another."- Hamlet, Act 3, Scene 1, Line, William Shakespeare.**

* * *

 **4 months, 2 weeks and 3 days before Incident- Sting**

"NO, 'EREN! YOW 'ERE MENT TOF 'E WIF 'ER! 'E'S 'OUR SULMTE!" Sting screamed in fury through her mouthful of triple chocolate ice cream and gummy bears, her shout rousing Myrtle, her Lothlorien Mastiff, from her sleep.

She was in her bedroom, watching _The Detective_ , a Haradian drama show on her TV. Beren (the male lead and incredibly sexy detective) had just dumped Luthien, an intelligent and beautiful CEO of a technology company and his Soulmatch (but obviously his Soulmate, they were perfect together), in order to finally solve the case of the famous stolen jewels, the Silmarils.

Needless to say, Sting was hooked on the show and would have continued to yell at the TV screen had Pilgrim's wrinkled face not replaced Beren's handsome one. Myrtle sat up and barked at the screen in surprise.

"Myrtle! Myrtle! We don't like barking. No barking. No. Barking." Sting whistled and Myrtle settled back down, closing her eyes.

"Enjoying yourself?" Pilgrim's grey eyes twinkled as Sting's face became disgruntled.

"I was so sure Beren was going to propose. Like, seriously? Who would leave Luthien? She's amazing. It's a good thing Beren is gorgeous."

Pilgrim rolled his eyes. "I won't even bother trying to understand what you're going on about."

Sting picked at her tub of ice cream and gummy bears. "So what do I owe the honour of seeing your face on my TV screen?"

"A check-up. After the mission went awry…" Pilgrim's face turned sad. "I'm sorry about Agent Proudfoot."

"I am too." She sighed. "But it's not our fault. He disobeyed my orders and now he's dead. It'll teach the other rookies to do as I say. I… I just wish he listened. He had so much potential, he had a life in front of him. And he threw it all away because he didn't want to listen to, I quote, 'a soulless freak'".

"I know. I heard it over the comms."

Sting stretched her legs, trying to not look bothered. "Have the rest of P.E.A.C.E. sent you another petition yet?"

"I'm afraid so."

Sting swallowed lightly as she stroked the top of a now sleeping Myrtle's head. Sting was used to hearing about these 'petitions' but it still hit her hard every time, especially since she saw those people daily.

"Which is it they want this time?" She smiled tightly at the TV screen. "Execution or an attempt to get me fired?"

"Execution. They are blaming you for Agent Proudfoot's death. It was declined. The White Council have agreed it was not your fault." His mouth began to scowl. "The petitioners also painted a rather nasty message on the walls of your office again. I have already scheduled your office to be redecorated."

Sting groaned as she scooped up another spoonful of ice cream and consumed it without tasting it. "Fuck's sake. Has the paperwork gone through for me to finally put some security up in my office yet?"

"No, the Council are still debating whether you should be allowed more security or not."

"How long is it going to take? I put in the request for more security two years ago." Sting rolled her eyes. "Take a picture of the message on the wall and send it to me, please. Am I going to be working at home next week or in your office?"

"I may or may not have a little mission for you in a week's time. You'll be gone for five weeks. The first two weeks will be surveillance and the others doing the actual mission."

"Hang on, old man." She chewed some gummy bears and swallowed before speaking again. "I haven't accepted to do anything yet."

Sting actually couldn't decline a mission if she was given one; there would be severe consequences for her if she did and she meant severe as in _never-see-daylight-again_ severe. But Pilgrim generally phrased it like she had a choice so she wouldn't be reminded that she was basically a puppet and the White Council were the ones with the strings. So when he didn't, it peeved her off massively because she deserved to have this illusion of freedom.

"You will," Pilgrim spoke with such a tone of confidence that it grated Sting's nerves. "It involves W.A.R."

Sting stiffened and her fingers gave the slightest tremble as her eyes went briefly distant before she focused back on the screen, her ire rousing as her handler smiled at her, knowing that he was pretty much throwing her to the lions. No, not lions. Demons. Power-hungry demons, who robbed her of all she held dear and more. The ice-cream and gummy bears in her stomach suddenly turned sour and threatened to come back up. Sting felt for Myrtle and upon finding her fur, grasped it lightly, the soft, familiar texture grounding her.

"Yeah, no. That doesn't exactly encourage me to go on the mission. You know with them hunting me and what not. Isn't it best I stay out their way?"

"I didn't realise you were such a coward, Sting"

Sting growled and her dog stirred but continued snoozing. "You'd be a coward too if you went through what I did."

Regret filled Pilgrim's face. "I see that I touched a sensitive spot. I apologise."

"Accepted." Sting said stiffly as she let go of Myrtle's shaggy coat.

"However, this mission is of extreme importance and I need the best and brightest of agents on this."

"Flattery isn't going to get you anywhere." She chomped on another few gummy bears.

"It isn't flattery if it's true." Pilgrim flashed what he probably thought was a charming grin.

"Hmm." Sting chuckled lowly and waved her spoon at him. "Continue."

"It is in the city of Esgaroth in Dale. So that means nice weather, great sights, blue skies-"

"Memories of me taking down a dictatorship." Sting drawled as she shoved a mouthful of ice-cream in her mouth.

"And you'll be stopping the Royals of Erebor and Barzillai from getting assassinated."

Sting choked.

"WHA?!"

* * *

 **4 months, 1 week and 3 days before Incident- Sting**

"You will take care of Myrtle, won't you?" Sting asked as Pilgrim drove further into Hobbiton's airport carpark. It was a custom of theirs for Pilgrim to drive her to the airport when she went on international missions as Pilgrim liked Sting to know she had one person who cared for her. "Mr Gamgee's on his holiday with his wife and son for the next six weeks in Gondor so you're the only other person she knows and you can't send her off to the kennels. She hates them and she likes to be with someone familiar, not a stranger."

"Yes, Myrtle will be fine with me." Pilgrim sighed, exasperated. "Eru, the amount of fuss you make over a dog. Have you got your cover story?

"Yes, I have." Sting drummed her fingers on her leg before she finally blurted out another worry. "But will you walk Myrtle? She gets antsy if she doesn't get a walk. She needs at least one long walk a day. Also, don't give her dog biscuits. They give her stomach-aches. She eats meat. If she's been really good, there are some jerky pieces you can give her. You know where the dog cabinet is."

"Alright, alright. Look, there's a space." Pilgrim reversed into said space and parked the car. After they got out and started to move their way into the airport, lugging suitcases behind them, Pilgrim started his usual routine of mothering. "Now, when they see your ring, you must remember to say the secret phrase and you'll be on the plane, no questions asked or need of security."

"This isn't my first mission, Pilgrim. I have done this procedure a thousand times before, you know." Sting rolled her eyes as she shrugged the long handles of her Rohan leather carry-on onto her shoulder.

"And I will continue to remind you the next thousand times." They stopped just outside Check-in. "Now, have you got all of your bags?"

"Yes."

"Money?"

"Yes."

"False identification?"

"Yes."

"Suncream?"

"… I'll buy some."

He threw up his arms in despair. "OH, FOR ERU'S SAKE! I asked YOU if you had some when you were packing last night and YOU said YES!"

"I was busy!"

"Doing what?"

"… Watching the season finale of _The Detective_." She mumbled.

Pilgrim huffed. "It's like you're not taking this mission seriously."

"I am!" Sting protested.

"Then, why did you forget the suncream?! You know you burn easily!"

Sting glanced at her watch. "Look, I have to go. I'll see you in five weeks. Take care of my furry angel."

"Call me when you've dealt with the assassin." He ordered sternly.

She shook her head. "You know using my phone is dangerous. W.A.R. could track me."

"Fine, only if you have a serious problem. A man will help dispose of the body. Do you have his number?

"Yes, it's in my file. It's one of Rivendell's men, isn't it?"

"Yes. I'll see you soon. Take care of yourself, Sting." He held out his hand and she shook it.

"Will do. Goodbye, Pilgrim."

He smirked mischievously for a moment before drawing a serious look on his face with his long, bushy eyebrows knitting together that almost stuck out as far as the grey newsboy cap. Sting prepared herself for one of his random tangents. "What do you mean by 'goodbye'? Do you mean to wish that the ancient gods will watch over me, or that it is a good parting whether I want it or not; or that you feel good because you are finally parting from me; or that it is a parting to be good on?"

"All of them at once, I suppose. Particularly the third one since it means you'll stop mothering me now."

Pilgrim laughed. "Go on. Off with you."

* * *

"Boarding pass please." The man's bored voice intoned as she approached the desk.

Sting deliberately handed over the boarding pass with her ring on her right hand in full view. The ring was silver, carefully crafted into a cosmos flower with a yellow tourmaline functioning as the centre of the flower. Silver to symbolise the balance between good and evil, a cosmos flower for order, and a yellow tourmaline for heightened intelligence. All of which P.E.A.C.E. stood for.

Upon seeing the ring, the man stilled for a slight moment before taking the boarding pass.

"You are wandering far from home, Miss Koldan." The man said carefully as he pretended to cast a critical eye over her boarding pass. That was the code question for travelling agents of P.E.A.C.E., just in case of an impersonator or a member of the public was being mistaken for an agent. Only a select few knew the code.

"Well," Sting shrugged casually. "Not all those who wander are lost."

The man nodded coolly at her before gesturing for her to go through.

* * *

Sting sat in her first-class seat, daintily sipping her champagne as she read her e-mails on her laptop. The businesses she owned were flourishing as ever, Mr Gamgee was having a lovely time at Gondor, and Pilgrim's picture of her office wall showed how the rest of P.E.A.C.E. were feeling towards her at the moment. The petition her colleagues had sent to Pilgrim had 1,500 signatures, which was 5 signatures away from being all of P.E.A.C.E. wanting her dead. All in all, a rather boring half an hour. And there were four hours to go.

 _Airplanes need to be faster_ , Sting decided as she closed her laptop.

Sting decided to review the mission one more time and then create scenarios in her mind and come up with solutions to said scenarios to pass the time. Grabbing her leather carry-on, she got out her reading tablet and her glasses case. Slipping on the pair of 'reading glasses', she switched on the tablet and selected the first book title displayed on there. To an outsider, she would appear to be halfway through an ancient text called the Iliad but her glasses were specially designed to see the mission assignments behind the disguise of the book on the screen.

She read quickly, devouring the words and flipping the 'pages' by dragging her finger across the screen. It was long-winded, taking up more pages than it really needed but Pilgrim wrote this so what was she to expect. He was of the opinion that "all tales need a little embellishment". Sting preferred to stick to the facts when people's lives were at risk but that was just her.

To sum it up quickly, Pilgrim had received a message from one of their moles in W.A.R. who had uncovered a plot to assassinate the King of Erebor, his nephews and also his cousin, the King of Barzillai. Without the Kings or the nephews, there would be no one left from their lines to inherit the Ereborean and Barzillian thrones as Princess Dis abdicated, due to not wanting to rule a country. Without the monarchs, the two countries would be thrown into chaos and that was when W.A.R. planned to begin their takeover.

 _Shit._

Her brow crumpling with concern, Sting turned another 'page'.

 _Ah, profiles._

A golden haired man with a short beard smiled at her from the screen, his skin a light brown. He had crinkles around his eyes and mouth that suggested he smiled a lot, making either an amiable person or just forced to keep a pleasant face at all times, due to the publicity.

 **Prince Filipe Bahadur-Sargon Durin**

 **Age: 20**

 **Gender: Male**

 **Hair colour: Blond**

 **Eye colour: Blue**

 **Nationality: Ereborean**

 **Patron God: Aulë**

 **Sexual orientation: Biromantic asexual**

 **Relationship status: Single, currently not in a Matched or unMatched relationship; has had 2 Soulmatches and 1 unMatched relationship previously.**

 **Soulmate: Unknown**

She went on to the next profile.

A dark-haired teenage boy smirking mischievously. He didn't have a beard, like the first one, but had stubble on his face and his skin was the same shade as the blond. He had a wide smile and it looked like it hurt. Despite the mischief, there was still a note of innocence in his face, probably due to the slight baby face.

 **Prince Kilian Roshan-Arash Durin**

 **Age: 18**

 _Not so much a teenager then. He looks younger than he is._ Sting thought. _Must be genetics. His brother looks young too._

 **Gender: Male**

 **Hair colour: Dark brown**

 **Eye colour: Brown**

 **Nationality: Ereborean**

 **Patron God: Aulë**

 **Sexual orientation: Heterosexual**

 **Relationship status: Single, has never dated. One Soulmatch previously.**

 **Soulmate: Unknown**

Flipping the page, the next profile was of one of the Kings. The Barzillian one. He had vivid red hair, thick, wavy and brushed away from his face, and his beard was short. He, too, seemed friendly with laughter lines etched on his tattooed face. The tattoos were done in black and ran down his forehead in geometric lines to accentuate his eyes. Tattoos were a common feature in Barzillian culture, considered to show someone's personality. The tattoos would be traditionally chosen by the person's closest friends and family, though some Barzillians would choose their own.

 **King Dain Wajdi-Lahan Durin**

 **Age: 46**

 **Gender: Male**

 **Hair colour: Red**

 **Eye colour: Brown**

 **Nationality: Barzillian**

 **Patron God: Aulë**

 **Sexual orientation: Pansexual**

 **Relationship status: Single; currently not in a Matched or unMatched relationship. Has had 78 Soulmatches previously. Has had 77 Matched relationships and 11 unMatched relationships formerly.**

Sting raised her eyebrows. It was unusual for someone to find that many Soulmatches in their lifetime, especially one that was still considered to be youthful, considering the vast majority of people now lived past 130. Homo sapiens lived longer and aged slower than they had done a thousand years ago as a result of a war that had involved bio-weapons, a war that had nearly caused the extinction of the human race.

She knew that the Barzillian King was well-known for his vast amount of Soulmatches. It was considered something of a scandal, a hot topic with the press that was mainly due to the fact none of his 78 Soulmatches turned out to be his Soulmate as the report showed.

 **Soulmate: Unknown**

She looked at the last file.

The man in it appeared regal but stern, a proud set to his shoulders and mouth. His eyes were a steely blue that was brightened by the dark brown tone of his skin. Like the blond man, he had a beard and his black hair was chin-length and combed back.

 **King Thorin Hreyansh–Amal Durin**

 **Age: 44**

 **Gender: Male**

 **Hair colour: Dark brown; silver streaks**

 **Eye colour: Blue**

 **Nationality: Ereborean**

 **Patron God: Aulë**

 **Sexual orientation: Unknown**

 **Relationship status: Single; has never had a Matched relationship. To our knowledge, has never had an unMatched relationship,**

 _Never had a Soulmatch?!_ That was most unusual. Most people found their first Soulmatch in their early teens or at the latest, their twenties. She wondered if he longed for a Soulmatch.

 **Soulmate: Unknown**

 **Note: Played a major part in both the Dragoon Coup and the Royal Revolution. Gained the epithet "Oakenshield" after protecting himself with an oaken branch against W.A.R. leader, Azog, at age 22.**

Sting sighed and closed her eyes.

The Dragoon Coup and the Royal Revolution was not something she wanted to remember at the moment.

 _Scenarios. Ok, so the Royals are going through the streets in their car and the assassin has a bomb…_

* * *

It was dusk in Esgaroth when she finally left the airport. She hailed a taxi to the hotel where she would be staying for the next five weeks.

Whilst Pilgrim said that the first two weeks were for surveillance, Sting knew that there would barely be anything to do. Of course, she would look but it was unlikely anything would happen.

Plus, she glimpsed into Pilgrim's mind and he really just wanted her to have a holiday.

Dale wouldn't have been her first choice for a holiday, she would have preferred to have gone to Bree. She loved the food there, particularly the cheese.

The hotel was called Hotel Majesty Opulence. As she stepped into the lobby, it became clear to her that the name was an understatement. It was very lavish and seemed very expensive, with lots of silk and a gold, crimson and cream colour scheme. Stunning paintings occupied various places on the walls of the reception hall and fancy furniture was strewn across the room with hotel patrons lazing about as they spoke to each other. A large, gold, abstract statue of two lovers passionately embracing was in the centre of the room, towering over it occupants.

Sting was glad she had changed into one of her more expensive dresses at the airport, the soft green fabric clinging to her figure and enhancing the bright green of her eyes. She strolled over leisurely to the reception desk.

The receptionist looked up and stared at her.

 _Eyes dilated. Heart quickening._ Sting noted as her sharp eyes and ears instantly fed her the man's physical reaction to her presence. _Attraction._

Sting's voice was polite and calm when she spoke to the dark-haired man, though she was annoyed slightly by his blatant staring. "Hello, I have a reservation booked here for five weeks."

"Of course," The man's voice was a bit hoarse. He swallowed and his voice deepened. "Your surname, miss."

"Koldan. K-O-L-D-A-N. I believe my employer called you earlier. One of my colleagues was originally meant to come here but she had an emergency. Her surname was Yew."

"Ah, yes. Your employer did call us. It is lovely to have you stay here, Miss Koldan. Would you like a drink whilst I just get your room key-card?"

"No, thank you," Sting smiled with ease.

He got the key-card and flashed a grin, his handsome face slightly flushed as he handed the key-card to her.

"Thank you." As she reached over to grab the key card, his fingers 'accidentally' grazed hers.

"Not a problem." His fingers lingered slightly on hers. _Definite attraction_. "Do you require someone to take up your bags?"

She removed her hand away from his as quickly as possible without seeming rude. "If you would be willing to find someone for me to take them up to my room."

"Of course." The receptionist gestured to a porter across the room. "Alistair will take you and your luggage to your room."

Sting nodded at him. "Thank you very much."

"It is no problem for such a lovely lady as yourself."

"Thank you. Have a good evening." She flashed a smile, positively itching to end the conversation with him.

"And you, Miss Koldan. Please, if you need anything at all, do not hesitate to call."

"Thank you." She finally managed to walk away and the porter began to lead her and her luggage to her room.

* * *

 **4 months and 6 days before Incident- Sting**

She was pressed against a wall in a darkened room, with a man kissing her neck passionately. Sting was in Città de Lago, a city not too far away from Esgaroth but far enough that no-one would recognise her the next morning if she drew attention the night before. Sting and the man had flirted playfully over some drinks, and now they were back in his flat in his bedroom, struggling to stand upright and undress. She had left her heels at the bedroom door about five minutes ago. He was already shirtless and she enjoyed the look of his golden chest.

She felt him attempt to unzip her dress with his clumsy fingers and hummed in approval as she captured his lips with her own and softly bit them.

He groaned into her mouth and managed to catch the zip of her short black lace dress. He pulled it down in three short tugs and the straps of her dress slipped off her shoulders slowly off before the dress tumbled into a heap on the ground. She sucked his lower lip as a reward. He tasted strongly of the rum he had been drinking, the warm taste of it stirring something in her lower stomach.

She lightly grazed her nails down the man's abs and he shuddered in response.

 _What was his name again?_

She thought to ask but was distracted when the callused palms of his hands cupped her butt and yanked her roughly closer to him. The rough texture of his hand on the soft skin of her bottom made the stirring feeling grow stronger and she wanted more.

She gently rolled her hips into him once and then harder a second time, making a soft groaning sound as he responded enthusiastically. His grip tightened on her as she teasingly ran her fingers up his right thigh before using them to undo the button of his jeans. The man was panting softly now and he was reaching for her bra but she grabbed his hand. He looked at her and she smiled coyly.

"No. I'm taking your jeans off first." She said softly as she began pulling his jeans down. She did it quickly because she was impatient and it had been a long time since she had last had sex.

The man wore black boxers, she noticed briefly before she was distracted when the man picked her up and carried her to the bed.

The rest of the night was a hot, whirling blur.

* * *

 **4 months and 5 days before Incident- Sting**

The man was asleep now, back turned to Sting. It was a couple of hours before dawn.

Sting glanced at him briefly before she swung her legs off the bed, stood, gathered her clothes and slipped into the man's bathroom. She figured he wouldn't mind her using his shower.

She showered and dressed quickly before making her way out of the apartment. She wandered down two flights of stairs and out of the building. The streets were empty and no cars drove down the road. She made her way back to the bar where she had met the man. Her car was parked there.

She thought about going back to the bar for another drink but she already indulged herself for a night of pleasure. It was time to get back to business.

It had been a few days since she had arrived in Dale.

She had done some surveillance. She kept her cover by going to the History Archives of Dale. Well, her 'cover' wasn't really so much of a cover. She was pretending to be Miss Belinda Koldan, a historian that was in charge of the new textbooks for the new World History exams that start next year for Shireling students. Whilst her name was obviously not Belinda Koldan, she was actually in charge of the textbooks. She owned the company that was making the textbooks.

Pilgrim must have stolen her work schedules, which irritated her because _Is nothing sacred?!_ and _Can't I just have one thing that the White Council didn't need to know about?!_

But privacy was nothing to the White Council. Sting was theirs.

She had finished her work for the World History textbook within the first five days of her stay. It was simple enough work, just gathering sources for the writers to put in books. It was meant to have been spaced out over two weeks but Sting wanted to focus on the mission.

Tilting her head upwards, she gazed at the stars, as she leaned on the car's bonnet.

More than a thousand years ago, in the ancient playwright William Shakespeare's time, his people had believed that the stars told their destiny. As she breathed in the cool air of the night, she could not understand how they thought that. The stars were just burning balls of gas and were trillions and trillions of miles away. Why would they be interested in mere mortals' destinies?

 _Destiny. Such a strange word._ She mused.

It suggested a road that one was forced to take, a road already laid out for you, no deviance or anything.

That definition suited her past, present, and future. She never really had much choice or say. Nor would she in the future.

Pilgrim's definition of Destiny was different: He believed that people forged their own destinies through their choices. That each choice led to a different fate.

It suited his and everyone else's lives. They could choose. They were not a prisoner for just existing.

Stars were not constant. They changed. They lived and died. They had destinies of their own.

Sting believed in Destiny. There was undeniable proof of it: Soulmates and Soulmatches.

Soulmates and Soulmatches were something that Sting knew about but was very unfamiliar with. She understood the concept but had never experienced it herself, due to the fact she lacked a soul. A rather important requirement in this case.

 _Ok, enough brooding. Not an attractive trait._ She rolled her eyes at her inner dramatic monologue.

She got off the car's bonnet and went to open the door.

She took one last fleeting look at the stars.

' _The fault is not in our stars, dear Brutus, but in ourselves, for we are underlings.' And I am the biggest underling of all._


	3. Chapter 3

**These Violent Delights Have Violent Ends**

 **Chapter 2: Journey to the End**

" _Journeys end in lovers' meeting"- Twelfth Night, (Act 2, Scene 3, Line 41), William Shakespeare._

* * *

 **3 months and 29 days before Incident- Sting**

Sting had a plan.

 _1\. Sneakily kill the assassin_

 _2\. Go back to Hotel Opulence Majesty and stay there for a while to watch over the Royals to make sure no new threats came their way_

 _3\. Go back to P.E.A.C.E. Headquarters and write a report on the mission_

 _4\. Go back to my apartment and watch romcoms with ice cream_

A couple walked past her and Sting caught a glimpse of the man looking affectionately at his partner, the soft look a punch to Sting's gut as a wave of longing washed over her.

 _Amendment to step 4: Go back to my apartment and watch romcoms with ice cream whilst crying about how I will never find love or even friendship, and how much I wish I was normal._

 _Good plan._ She nodded to herself.

"Agent Sting, have you found the target?" The voice of Agent Chrysanthos muttered in her ear piece. Agent Chrysanthos was one of Peredhel's men, who would be in charge of disposing of the body.

Sting took a deep breath as she continued strolling down the streets, her white sundress rustling against her lightly tanned legs. "No, I haven't used my-" She swallowed, uncomfortable with speaking about her 'special skills', as Pilgrim put it. "I haven't used my… abilities yet."

"You need to hurry. The Kings and Princes will be passing by in an hour."

"On it."

She stepped into an alley and rested her back against the wall, her eyes closed, breathing in and out, as she brought her mind to focus.

 _Assassination. Kings. Princes. Erebor. Barzillai._ And with those words stuck in her head, she lowered her shields and gazed into the minds of the people in Esgaroth.

Her eyes behind her lids flickered to the left and right quickly, searching, scanning. It was like a sea in her mind, the minds of the people in the city like currents, tugging and whispering at her. And there! She was suddenly launched into the mind of the assassin. It was a surprisingly cool and peaceful mind. Most minds she read were tumultuous and twisted and turned at every angle, conflicting thoughts, and desires. This one was smoother, calmer. Focused. A sniper's mind.

She furrowed her brow, concentrating, trying to get more details of the person.

 _67 years old, current location: 2 streets over. Destination: Plaza Hotel on the main street._

Her eyes snapped open.

"Agent Chrysanthos, I have the location of the target. Intended destination is the Plaza Hotel. Plans to shoot them whilst they will be driving to Hotel Opulence Majesty."

"What's the plan?"

"I'm going to the hotel and I'll deal with the sniper. Do you think you can sneak into the hotel for the clean-up?"

"Yes, I'll disable the cameras for my arrival. I trust you will use your abilities to make your own way in?"

"Yes. Do not contact me until I give the all-clear. Expect a hit soon."

She wandered out of the alley and began casually walking back down the street towards the Plaza Hotel.

* * *

Sting closed the door silently, creeping into the hotel room.

The sniper was on the balcony, setting up. She had left the balcony door open.

On the streets of Esgaroth, the buzz of people's voices could be heard, all babbling with excitement at the prospect of seeing royalty.

Sting stepped out onto the balcony.

The sniper turned around, eyes flickering suspiciously, but she did not see Sting.

One of the three perks of being a mutant; you could turn invisible at will. Not that it was pleasant; the colour drained from the world and you could still see a faint shadow, but in her line of work, it was extremely useful.

Carefully, Sting lifted up the skirt of her dress and grabbed the syringe from her white thigh holster. She uncapped the needle.

Sting waited patiently, cold green eyes fixed on her.

From her position, she could see a shiny roofless car came through.

 _Roofless?! They might as well hold up a sign saying 'Shoot me'_ , Sting noticed with no small amount of irritation.

The Kings and Princes were waving at the whistling, cheering crowd.

The sniper got ready to shoot, her finger tense on the trigger.

Sting struck.

The syringe landed at the back of the sniper's neck and Sting slid the liquid in before yanking it harshly out.

The sniper's hand jerked back from the trigger to feel the area where the syringe had entered before the woman crumpled into a shuddering heap.

Sting grabbed the rifle from the sniper and completely disassembled it, which was a shame because completely disassembling a sniper rifle frequently tended to cause wear on the parts and mechanisms. Seeing as an assassin's job is to remain unnoticed, the dying sniper next to her must have disassembled the rifle multiple times and it showed. Mostly likely, had Sting not intervened, the Royals would not have been killed with a clean shot.

She might ask Agent Chrysanthos if he could post the rifle to Pilgrim so she could make some modifications. It was good practice for her.

After disassembling the rifle and returning it to its case, Sting looked back at the sniper, who was now taking deep, rattling breaths, her pale eyes wide and searching for an escape.

One would think she would have felt pity at the sorry wreck of the sniper, obviously afraid to die, but she didn't.

If you are prepared to take people's lives, you should be prepared for someone to take yours.

So she merely listened to the sniper's breathing, the desperate slapping of her hands on the tiles of the balcony floor as she fought against the poison, and coldly watched the rolling eyes and twitching legs of the sniper before finally, she was dead.

The Kings and Princes carried on down the street, waving, oblivious to the threat that almost took their lives.

"Agent Chrysanthos, the target has been dealt with. I require a clean-up."

* * *

Agent Chrysanthos quickly cleaned up, hiding the body and the rifle in a big laundry cart. He sprayed down the area where Sting killed the sniper and destroyed all evidence.

Sting helped where she could and they started a nice but brief conversation about Dales' cuisine. He recommended some places for her to try.

Sting liked Agent Chrysanthos. He was one of the few people she was comfortable working with as he didn't give a damn she was a mutant or had 'special skills' as long as she completed her mission. He was civil to her, sometimes even nice, and he was very thorough in his work.

Agent Chrysanthos used to be a field agent like her but a head injury from his last mission proved too serious for him to continue. He had been defending one of P.E.A.C.E's bases in Gondolin when a Balrog, a high-ranking member of W.A.R., cornered him. He managed to kill the Balrog but almost died doing so. Now, he was an intelligence officer but sometimes, if he annoyed Peredhel in some way, he was forced to take clean-up duty.

When the clean-up was finished, Sting Changed into her invisible state to cause minor distractions so Agent Chrysanthos could sneak the body into the car. At the very slim chance that they got caught it would be better for Agent Chrysanthos to be seen as working alone so she could continue her mission. Agent Chrysanthos whispered "good luck" to her as he got into his car.

She watched him drive away before walking back down the street. Upon reaching the nearest alley, she Changed back to being visible again, sighing in relief as the colours of the world flooded back into her vision.

She called a taxi and went back to the Hotel Opulence Majesty. For the next three weeks, she would be covertly babysitting the Royals to make sure no new threats came during their stay.

Their guards could only do so much.

* * *

Sting was back into her room, picking out a dress for dinner.

The thing about expensive, luxury hotels like Hotel Opulence Majesty was that they were basically a catwalk for the guests. If you wore a designer dress, you'd fit right in but if you wore that cheap dress you bought in a street market five years ago… well, Sting couldn't draw attention to herself on the mission.

At the moment, she was trying to decide what colour dress to wear.

Black was out and so was red. Whilst sexy, they were colours you associated with the 'dark and dangerous', easily drawing attention.

She had her dark blue dress but she wasn't feeling the blue today.

The green dress was lovely but she already wore it when she arrived at the hotel. Most of the guests here went by "wore it once, throw it away". Not that she was going to throw it away but, again, she couldn't draw attention to herself.

 _What to wear, what to wear, what to wear._ Sting mused as she surveyed her choices in the closet.

Her white dress? It would make her look innocent but the tight skirt would restrict her movement. _No._

The orange one would clash with her hair. She only brought it in case she needed to go undercover, which usually meant dying her hair black.

She stood there in her black underwear, hands on her hips, her hair wrapped up in a towel.

She wanted to start her makeup soon so she was going to have to make a decision soon.

She spotted a splash of purple. Her brow crumpled as she picked up the dress by the hanger.

"I don't remember packing this one." A note fluttered to the ground. Sting snatched it up and read it.

 **Sting,**

 **This dress is my thank-you gift for taking on this mission. I had Agent Chrysanthos put it in your room whilst you were working. I know you are not comfortable working in such close proximity to W.A.R. but I would not have asked you to take on this mission if I did not believe you were more than capable.**

 **Remember to destroy this note.**

 **Pilgrim.**

"Aw, Pilgrim." Her lips quirked up in a soft smile as she laid the dress on the bed and began searching for her cigarette lighter in her handbag to burn the note. "You old softie, you."

* * *

 **Thorin**

Thorin slipped on his suit jacket, having changed from his uniform, glancing over himself in the mirror. He could hear Fili and Kili squabbling over the TV remote in the lounge.

"Come on, Kee. I want to watch The Detective!"

"We are not watching that rubbish!"

"Rubbish? It is not rubbish! You wouldn't know a decent TV show if it punched you in the face!"

"I'll punch you in the face if you don't shut up!"

"BOYS!" Thorin shouted and the bickering fell silent. "Behave!"

"Yes, Uncle." The Princes called out in unison.

"Thorin," Dain opened the door and walked into his room without even bothering to knock first. "They were not doing any harm."

"Could you knock? I could have been naked for all you know. And we are on a state visit, they need to learn to behave."

"The press are not around."

"They need to learn to act as though the press are."

"Why? They are children. Let them be children, Thorin."

"They are not children anymore. Your country may not have been recently reclaimed from extremists but mine was and Erebor- Erebor cannot afford to look ridiculous in front of other countries." Thorin turned away from Dain and fiddled with his tie.

"It's been several years, Thorin. Is it not the time to think of the future and not the past?"

"The past directs our future, Dain."

"Does it? Or do we let it?"

"I do not have time for your philosophical thoughts tonight, Dain," Thorin growled.

Dain slapped Thorin's arm playfully. "Oh, come out of this mood of yours, cousin. Erebor will be fine, as will Dis. Relax tonight before we are swept away by our duties. Take a nap, drink, watch TV, have dinner. Now, if you excuse me, I am going to take a bubble bath."

"The hotel does have a lovely jacuzzi bath." Thorin agreed. Dain's face lit up.

"It's a jacuzzi bath?"

"Yes. Try the lemon and coriander bubble bath. I found it quite energising."

"I shall. Do try and have fun tonight, cousin. I'd hate for you to go through the rest of your life with this black cloud over your head." With that, Dain swept out of the room.

Thorin smiled briefly in amusement at Dain's theatrics before worry eased its way back into his mind.

 _Erebor is in safe hands._ He told himself but part of him was still frozen from fear.

He went to the balcony, deciding that some air may be good for him. The air of the night was warm but not as warm as Erebor's. Still, it helped clear his mind.

His balcony was above the gardens and he could dimly see a figure, a woman perhaps, lounging in a hammock.

 _I wish I could relax like that._

Thorin took a breath, counting to seven, held it for another seven counts, and then let it out, counting to eleven. His therapist recommended it for his anxiety and Thorin found it useful. He did this for a few minutes and eventually the panic in his chest was soothed.

Thorin thought back to his nephews and wondered if he was being too harsh with them.

Fili and Kili, as their family and closest friends called them, were still young. Should he really put so much pressure on them?

They should enjoy life at their young age, like Dis, Frerin and Thorin should have been able to.

With that in mind, Thorin walked into the living room where Fili and Kili were watching Fili's show. Despite Kili's original protests, he was enraptured by the show, his face soft and his lips mouthing in a silent aww. Fili was clutching a pillow to his chest, grinning at Luthien and Beren on the screen.

Thorin sat on the sofa with the boys, watching the show with them and his heart clenched in sadness at the sight of Beren and Luthien.

Why had he never met a Soulmatch? It wasn't fair.

His mother used to say he hadn't had a Soulmatch because his Soulmate was so unique and original that no soul was like them.

He had hoped so. But he had also hoped he would meet his Soulmate by now.

It was around a year ago that Thorin began to settle down into the idea that he would never find his Soulmate. It wasn't uncommon but he couldn't help but feel resentful of the idea.

 _Where are you?_ He thought as he watched Beren and Luthien kiss, an aching loneliness resounding in him.

When the credits of the show rolled up, an idea floated into Thorin's mind.

"I was thinking about heading downstairs to the bar. Would you two like to join me?"

The boys' heads snapped to him.

"Really?" Kili sat up in excitement.

"Of course. You two have done very well and I am proud of you."

Fili beamed at his uncle. "Can we go get ready?"

"Of course. Wear whatever makes you feel comfortable."

"We might be a while. I should probably take a shower or something. Do you want to head down and we'll meet you there?" Kili bounced to his feet.

"Good idea. I shall meet you two down there."

* * *

 **Sting**

Sting was sat in Hotel Opulence Majesty's gardens, lounging in a large cream hammock, idly swirling the glass of red wine in her hand. The warm breeze of the night caressed her cheeks and neck and caused the purple fabric of her dress to ripple.

It was getting late and the Royals were a no-show. She had figured they would have wanted some privacy after the craziness of the day but Pilgrim insisted she did her 'mind checks'.

Her 'mind checks' could extend to a large area of a city but only for a short length of time, several minutes at the most before she felt ill. The 'checks' in the hotel were much easier to stomach but still difficult to manage for a long length of time.

She had felt a throbbing headache start about an hour ago as she scanned minds again and again and again.

She decided to stop for five minutes so she could have a break and upon exiting the minds of everyone in the hotel, her headache eased slightly.

Sting let out a huff of relief and drank some of the wine.

Her abilities were not used often because the White Council had decreed that she could only use them if she had been given clearance by Pilgrim first, and then, only on certain missions.

It didn't bother her much as using her powers made her feel ill, but she sometimes wondered what it would be like if she could practise more with her abilities.

But no. That can of worms must never be opened. She didn't know how powerful her abilities were or the limitations of them, but the White Council would not hesitate to put a target on her back if she became more of a threat than she already was.

A threat. Her abilities made her a threat. It wasn't her mother's intention to make her a threat.

* * *

 **The Year 2987- Belle**

"Mummy," Six-year-old Bellaria asked, her young face tilted slightly to one side, her green eyes sharp and intelligent. "Why am I different to everyone else?"

Her mother, dark-haired and beautiful, plucked at the quilt of Bellaria's bed. It was bedtime and her mother had just finished reading her a story. "Because I made you so, sweetheart."

"But why?"

"To protect you. To make sure you can keep yourself safe if anything happens to me."

"Because Daddy was killed?" Belle whispered.

Her mother swallowed. "Yes, little one. Because Daddy was killed and some bad people want to find me. But I'm not going to let them take you. I made you special so you can get away from the bad people."

Bellaria sat up in her bed. "I won't let the bad people get you, Mummy."

"Belle," Her mother stroked Bellaria's bright hair lovingly, her green eyes, a darker green than her daughter's, impossibly sad. "Don't worry about me. Just keep your promise to me, okay?"

* * *

 **The Present- Sting**

Sting swirled the wine around the glass, watching it go around and around and around.

The colour was so much like blood.

Sting's hands began shaking and a little bit of wine spilled onto her hand.

She dropped the glass, which shattered, as she watched in choking horror at the wine- _no, blood, blood, so much blood, no, please, please-_ stained her hand.

 _It isn't blood. It is not anyone's blood. It's just wine._ She firmly reminded herself but the words sounded uncertain in her mind as she remembered W.A.R.

She couldn't breathe.

 _Focus. Focus on the mission. Don't be weak. Focus._

Swinging herself out of the hammock, she took care not to step on the shards of glass.

Sting grabbed her clutch bag from the hammock and went back to the hotel, stopping to inform an employee that a glass was broken and to charge the cost to her room. She did another mind-check, making sure no-one had ill intentions towards the Royals and found that all was well.

She felt restless and she strode quickly into the lobby, deciding to take the stairs to her floor in the hope that the exercise will calm her down. She was on the 18th floor and she figured that would be enough.

She snuck a glance at her slim silver watch, wondering if how late it was, and promptly slammed into something hard.

She yelped in surprise and her silver clutch dropped out of her hands, the contents spilling out onto the floor; her purse, her two lipsticks, her mascara, her eyeliner and her clean handkerchief.

Sting fell backwards but warm hands grabbed her waist, slowing her descent to the floor as they lowered her so she landed safely.

"I am so sorry, are you alright? I'm sorry, I wasn't looking where I was going. I was looking at the time on my watch. Are you okay?" Sting scrambled to pick her things on the floor and the man knelt down to help her.

"I am fine. Are you?"

"I'm great, thanks to you. I'm sorry."

"Pray, don't mention it." He handed her handkerchief to her and as she took it, she looked up at him to thank him for helping her and met his eyes.

All at once, everything changed.

His blue met her green and Sting felt a warm invisible hand gently pushed on her chest and then there was a strong pull towards the man, the force of the pull almost-painful. A feeling of sudden, dizzying weightlessness and fascination rushed through her and she felt so light, too light and so very warm.

Then she blinked, regained her grasp on reality and realised she was staring at the King of Erebor.

 _Fuck._

She jolted and looked away from his incredulous face.

 _He's probably just wondering why I was staring at him. Shit, say something!_

"Thank you, Your Majesty, for helping me." Her voice was a little higher than normal.

 **Oh, for fuck's sake, get some composure. Call yourself a spy! Honestly.** A voice that sounded oddly like Lobelia, one of Sting's main and most hated colleagues, hissed.

"It's quite alright," His Majesty said, still looking at her with some astonishment. "Are you hurt?"

"No, Your Majesty." She stood up and he followed her. They both lingered there for a moment, not sure how to proceed.

 _Where in Eru's name are his bodyguards?! Shouldn't they be here? The Weeper have mercy._

"A-Are you, er, injured, Your Majesty?" Sting stuttered. You fucking stuttered. Cool, calm, collected spy, my arse. "I did slam into you quite hard." Better.

"No, no. You did not harm me."

The-Voice-In-Her-Head-That-Sounded-Too-Much-Like-Lobelia-Why-Does-Her-Brain-Hate-Her? whispered quickly. **Here's the plan: Go upstairs and turn invisible. Watch over him until his bodyguards find him and then go outside and do some mind-checks until he goes to bed.**

"That's good, that's really good." She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear awkwardly. Go to the stairs. Now. "Goodnight, Your Majesty," She hurriedly made a curtsy and speed-walked her way further into the lobby.

 _Oh Eru, I could die. He must think I am crazy. Bloody hell. Ok, ok. Don't focus on that, focus on-_

"Wait!" And His Majesty's hand grabbed her arm.

 _What?!_

She turned in His Majesty's grasp, looking at him in shock, and he coloured, releasing her.

"I'm sorry, I should not have done that."

Sting swallowed. "It's fine."

"I was wondering if you knew where the Bar del Passero was. My nephews and I were going to meet there and I have been wandering around the hotel for 20 minutes now and I haven't seen it." He ran a hand through his silver-streaked black hair. It was longish, around to his chin but combed back off his face, defining his sharp jawline that was covered with a short beard.

 _He's nervous. Why?_

"Oh, the Sparrow Bar? If you just take that corridor that I just came out of, it will lead you near the gardens. Then you take a left, go to the first door on your left, then you take the stairs down. Then, you take a door to your right and it'll bring you out to the courtyard where the bar is."

Her directions only seemed to further bewilder him further.

"Would you like me to show you?" Sting asked without thinking.

 **Seriously? Seriously?** Snarled the Detested-Whiny-Voice-Of-Lobelia.

 _Shut up, Lobelia-Voice. At least I can make sure he gets there safe. And it's not too far from the gardens. I can Shift there._

 **What about cameras?**

 _There's a blind spot by the rose fountain._

 **Hurry up. This is a mission. Don't mess it up.**

His Majesty nodded. "Please. I get horribly lost."

"Follow me, your Majesty."

He surprised her then. "Thorin. Call me Thorin."

"I rather not. It is disrespectful for me to not address you by your title."

The King frowned. "It is disrespectful to not address me as I wished to be addressed."

"True." Sting acknowledged.

They walked down the hall before Thorin asked his next question. "What is your name?"

"Belinda Koldan."

"A lovely name."

"Thank you."

They continued walking to the bar in awkward silence.

When they entered into the courtyard where the bar was set outside- Seriously, why did he pick the outside bar? She could count several places where an assassin may be hiding- she gestured clumsily to the bar. "There it is."

The Sparrow Bar was set outside and tables were strewn around the stone courtyard with comfortable wooden chairs. Hundreds of soft white lanterns hung across the courtyard, creating a cosy glow. Soft music played and the smell of the blossoms from the blossom tree filled the air. The bar itself was wooden as well and the bartender mixed some of the best martinis Sting had ever had.

She was about to excuse herself and slip off to the gardens when Thorin spoke again. "Would you like to have a drink with me?" He tucked his hands into his suit's pockets.

 _Nervous. Afraid of rejection._ Sting's brain rattled off the meanings of his body language.

"Erm- I've already had some wine so I am alright, thank you." She replied gently, pushing a curl behind her ear.

Thorin flushed and shifted his feet. "I am sorry. I am most likely bothering you-"

 _Shy._

"-But I think they serve lemonade or something." She cut in. She didn't know why she said that but she felt odd when his eyes lit up and she received a shy smile. He ordered their drinks and once they received them, they went to the furthest table away from the bar so the bartender, who was watching the two with great interest, could not hear them speak.

 **Sting! What are you doing?!**

 _I can watch him from here._ She argued back.

 **You risk exposing yourself.**

 _No, I don't. It's improbable that W.A.R. has already sent out another assassin when the news of the death of their first one hasn't even got out yet._

"So, what brings you to Esgaroth?" Thorin asked.

"Business. My colleague was meant to go but a serious family emergency came up so I'm here."

 _Lies._

"What kind of business?"

"Not so much as business. More like research. My employers are interested in Dale's history, particularly before it was even called Dale and was instead called Italy. We are looking at how Italy was unified over a millennium ago. I believe they are going to write a book for students in the Shire. I was just going to museums, going through archives to read ancient documents and sending a few reports on my findings."

"Was?" A note of panic rang in Thorin's voice.

"I've finished my research here."

Thorin looked slightly horrified and crestfallen. "Oh. When are you leaving?"

"Not for another few weeks." Thorin relaxed at this. "Seeing as I am here, my boss has forced me to take a holiday."

"You work a lot, do you?" He seemed amused.

"Married to it." Sting-No, Belinda-laughed.

"Do you come from the Shire?"

"Indeed, I do. I live in Hobbiton specifically. Easier access for my work." Sting then fucked up. "My dog can't live with me so she's staying with some of my family friends at the moment. I'm trying to find a better apartment that's close to a dog park so…"

 **THAT'S PERSONAL SHIT RIGHT THERE! RIGHT THERE, YOU JUST SAID ACTUAL PERSONAL SHIT. YOU'RE MEANT TO KEEP YOUR DISTANCE.**

 _Shut up, Lobelia-voice. It's fine. Dogs are harmless._

"You have a dog? What's her name?"

"Her name is Myrtle. She's a Lothlorien Mastiff so she is huge. She is the sweetest dog ever and I love her to bits. Do you have any dogs?"

"We have several around the palace. My own dog is called Minty. I got her as a gift from the President of Bree a few years ago. She's a Bree terrier. Lovely girl but very greedy. Always hungry."

"Oh, I know what you mean." Belinda straightened up with a smile. "One time, I was on the beach in the south of the Shire and I was walking Myrtle with her lead off. It was a lovely day so a lot of people were out enjoying the sunshine. Anyway, so Myrtle was happily running around and everything was fine until we came across this family who were having a picnic. Myrtle, quick as a shot, ran across to this family, snatched this sandwich out of a toddler's hand and ate it, running all the while. I was so embarrassed, this toddler was crying and Myrtle decided to go back and see if there was any more food. I felt awful."

Thorin laughed. "Minty is the same. Once, she stole this great leg of lamb off of the table and tried to run off with it but it was too big for her to carry and she was struggling to drag it off to the gardens. Worst of all, it didn't take place at home. It took place during a visit to Rohan and the gravy and fat soaked into the carpet. The King of Rohan was not at all pleased."

"Oh Valar, that's even worse than my story." Belinda giggled, actually fucking giggled. Sting had never giggled in her life and now, posing as a historian called Belinda Koldan and talking to the King of Erebor, she giggled. She hid in her face in her hand trying to smother them and Thorin chuckled with her, their laughter mingled in the air as the undeniable tension between the two eased into something more natural.

"Uncle!" A voice called.

Sting snapped to attention, Belinda quickly fading.

The Princes of Erebor strolled over to their table, warm smiles on their faces. Prince Killian bounced with her step whilst Prince Filipe seemed to strut, calm and proud. They were dressed in suits, casual but smart, and their hair had that newly-washed look about it, fluffy and smelling strongly of the hotel's shampoo.

"Boys." Thorin stood up to greet them.

"We had hoped you had got here alright."

"I got a little lost but I asked for some help to get here."

"So we can see." Prince Killian winked at Sting flirtatiously. "Hello."

"Good evening, Your Highnesses." Sting couldn't help but feel amused slightly by the over-confidence the two Princes projected.

"None of that, thank you. You can call me Kili and my brother Fili if we can learn the name of the beautiful lady who stopped our uncle from losing his way."

Belinda laughed. "It's Belinda Koldan."

"Well, Belinda," Fili said with a gleaming smile. "We are going to have to borrow our uncle for a few minutes so he can pay for our drinks and verify that Kili is indeed of legal drinking age. Do not move from that spot! We will be right back."

And with that, the boys dragged their uncle to the bar, conversing in a language Sting did not know. She believed it was Khuzdul, the secret language of both Erebor and Barzillai that was so sacred that they refused to let any outsiders know a word of it unless they were married to one of its speakers.

Thorin said something and the Princes looked shocked and then delighted, grinning excitedly.

She desperately wanted to know what they were saying, and she could read their minds if she truly wanted to, but she decided she wanted to give them privacy. It probably didn't matter. She would leave them after these drinks and keep her distance away from them so she could complete the mission.

But it was refreshing to have a normal conversation about normal things. She would admit it would probably be the highlight of her mission for her.

Fili slid into Thorin's previous seat, a multi-coloured cocktail in his hand, facing her. Kili nicked a chair from another table to sit on Fili's right, leaving Thorin to get another seat and place on Belinda's left. His knee accidentally but gently nudged Belinda's as he sat down in his seat.

"So then, Belinda," Kili began. "My uncle tells me you are a historian."

"I am," Occasionally. When I'm not spying or killing people. "I specialise mostly in the history of the Shire but I am currently working on the unification of Italy, which is what Dale was called over a thousand years ago."

"I see. And what other interests do you have?"

"I'm fairly boring, I'm afraid. I read a lot, mostly ancient texts. I dabble in writing short stories for children when I'm taking a break from doing paperwork. I do some work with a non-profit homeless shelter in Hobbiton, helping people get back on their feet by sorting out a place for them to stay and helping them get jobs. I sometimes do some archery, though not as much as I would like to. Oh and I love _The Detective_ , this Haradian TV show."

"You watch _The Detective_ too?!" Fili sat up with a gasp, delighted.

Fili and Belinda looked at each other intently and something marvellous happened.

It is a truth universally acknowledged that once a member of a fandom meets another member of the same fandom, there will be an intense and hyper discussion of said fandom to follow.

And so when Fili and Belinda looked at each other and saw the same amount of obsessive devotion to a TV show, they proceeded to gush.

Belinda nodded eagerly. "I can't believe what Beren did to Luthien! How could he do that?"

"I know, that utter prick!" Fili leaned forward. "Like, she's perfect!"

"Isn't she just? I actually met the actress who played her at last year's TeleCon in Hobbiton and she was so lovely. I got her autograph back home."

"Have you seen the last episode yet?"

"Yes, and the ending! I swear I was going to kill the writers! How could they leave it on a cliff-hanger?!"

"I know! And now we have to wait a year! A year! Ugh."

"So…" Kili said, attempting to steer Fili and Belinda into a conversation they could all partake in. "Belinda, Uncle Thorin also mentioned you live in Hobbiton. What's that like?"

Belinda quickly composed herself back into a seemingly calm persona. "It's okay. It rains a lot, like everywhere else in the Shire. It's very busy, especially at Winter Solstice. Noisy too. I wouldn't say it's my favourite place to live but I like the markets there. This one I go to sells the most beautiful woollen scarfs. The pubs are really good too. I still prefer the countryside, though. It's easier to breathe and think out there," She took a sip of her drink and directed a question at Thorin. "If I may ask, why are you staying at a hotel? Why are you not staying with Dale's royal family?"

Thorin made a face. "The guest wing of the Esgaroth Palace is still being rebuilt after the Royal Revolution."

"Ah, that makes sense." Sensing Thorin's mood begin to darken, she quickly changed the subject to something she hoped was more positive. "So what's Erebor like? Are the mountains as beautiful as they say? I heard someone say that to watch the sunrise from the top of the Lonely Mountain was like witnessing the rebirth of the world."

"There are not enough words to describe how beautiful they are. The colours at sunrise are astonishing." Thorin said, his lips quirking up.

Sting/Belinda couldn't help but smile at him.

"It's traditional for the Ereborean royal family to have their weddings at the top of the Lonely Mountain. We have a special temple built into the rock on top of the Lonely Mountain for it. When the ceremony is over, the married couple goes onto the terrace and look out onto the mountains to swear that their love and trust for each other is as unmoving and constant as the mountain itself." Kill added, his eyes darting quickly over to his uncle mischievously.

Thorin frowned slightly at him.

"That's beautiful," Belinda said softly. "In the Shire, most weddings follow this custom where the couple would make flower crowns for each other to say that their partner is the ruler of their heart and their love for them is ever-blooming."

"Are there specific flowers you have to use?" Thorin asked, eyes flickering to her face and then away as he shifted in his seat.

"No, people make it personal to their partner."

Thorin nodded and open his mouth to say something but was cut off by a loud voice.

"THORIN! FILI! KILI!"

The Royals and Belinda looked in the direction of the voice.

King Dain of Barzillai came strolling up to their table. Noticing that there wasn't much room around the table for five people, Bella thought this could be a chance to retreat back to her room. She spotted the bodyguards that came with the Barzillian King, one of them scowling at Thorin fiercely, and decided she was no longer needed.

"I had wondered where the lot of you had gone."

"Apologies, Dain. We didn't want to disturb you."

"It's fine, but Dwalin was going frantic, trying to find you. You really need to tell him where you are going. You can't keep disappearing off."

Kili tapped the Barzillian King's arm to gain his attention. "Uncle Dain, Uncle Thorin made a new friend. This is Belinda Koldan, a historian from the Shire."

Belinda smiled amiably and looked straight into the Barzillian King's eyes. "Hello, Your Majesty."

His face slackened in shock. Thorin stiffened by her side and she turned to look at Thorin, concerned. She touched his arm lightly, her fingers curling slightly around his foreman.

"Are you alright?"

Kili and Fili's smiles fell completely from their faces and they looked between Thorin, Belinda and Dain anxiously.

"Thorin, are you ok? Are you feeling ill?" Belinda frowned and looked at the Princes. "What's wrong?"

"You're my Soulmatch." The Barzillian King breathed.

 _What._

"No, she isn't, Dain." Thorin said quietly from where he was sitting.

"How can you possibly know?"

Thorin regarded Dain with chilling, defiant calmness. "Because my soul matched with hers."

Belinda sharply withdrew her hand from Thorin's arm to cover her gaping mouth.

 _What._

"You're lying."

"I am not. My Soul matched with hers."

"No, she is my Soulmatch."

 _WHAT?!_

"I can't be," Sting whispered into her hand. "I can't."

 _I can't be anyone's Soulmatch. I don't have a soul._

 _I don't have a soul._

"I have to go." Sting hastily grabbed her clutch and got out of her seat.

"Wait!" Dain grabbed her wrist. Sting tried to tug herself out of his grasp, expecting him to let go, but he held firm.

"Let go of me." Sting seethed. She could make him let go of her arm (could actually amputate his arm with her glass if she really wanted to) but she was here to protect the Royals. Therefore, hurting them was off-limits. Even if King Dain were being a prick.

"You're my Soulmatch." He implored desperately, his face trying to convey something to her.

"Leave her alone, Dain." Thorin glanced at her and she couldn't help but feel relieved he was on her side. "She wants to leave."

"Stay out of this, Thorin." Dain hissed.

Thorin stood up, slamming his hands on the table, causing the glasses to tremble with the force of the blow. "She asked you to let her go!"

A stunned silence settled over the group and Sting thought longingly of her house back in the Shire.

Kili finally spoke up, his voice low and composed. "Uncles, you're making a scene."

"How about we go somewhere where we can talk this out like adults?" Fili suggested, raising his hands in a placating manner.

"You two, be quiet." Dain snarled and the Princes looked hurt at the command.

"Don't tell them to 'be quiet'." Thorin and Sting snapped in unison. Thorin side-eyed Sting in slight surprise over her protectiveness.

"What? They're good kids. They don't deserve to be yelled at." She mumbled to him and his expression softened.

"Uncle Dain, why don't you let go of Belinda?" Kili proposed nervously. "Maybe she will be willing to talk to you then."

Reluctantly, Dain did so.

Sting rubbed her arm, red marks beginning to show on her pale skin. Her chest was too tight, her head was swimming slightly.

 _This isn't right. I can't have a Soulmatch._

"Are you alright?" Thorin asked.

"Fine." She replied tightly. It was much too hard to breathe in here. Everything was getting blurry.

 _I don't have a soul. No Soulmatches or Soulmates for me. I'm a mutant, the only one, and mutants don't have souls. A mutant does not follow or belong to the natural order of things. They are unnatural and therefore do not have souls. I can't have one, I don't have a soul. Can't deal with this, too much, can't deal with this, not my area, I can't deal with this-_

Concerned, Thorin reached out with surprising gentleness to touch her arm but Dain slapped it away.

"Don't touch her!"

"I was going to see if you had hurt her arm, Dain. And do stop talking like she can't speak for herself."

Sting felt her legs begin to weaken.

 _-I can't deal with this, I can't I can't Ican'tIcan'tIcan't-_

"You're being unreasonable, Dain." Thorin jabbed a finger at Dain's chest.

"I'm being unreasonable?!" Dain yelled back.

 _-IneedoutToomuchToomuchGetmeoutAbortAbortAbortPilgrimgettoPilgrimgettoPilgrimphonephone Phone!-_

Sting ran.


End file.
